


Promenade

by corvidae9



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-23
Updated: 2006-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29459988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvidae9/pseuds/corvidae9
Summary: Ginny and Luna take a walk down Diagon Alley.
Relationships: Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley
Kudos: 3





	Promenade

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the scarletwomen "Out and Proud" challenge, because no one should have to hide who they are or who they love.

**I.**  
It wasn't the first time Ginny had slipped her fingers around Luna's wrist in a public place, but this time it didn't stop there. Ginny tilted her chin up and let her fingers drift downward to twine around Luna's and squeeze. It could have been the barest, most innocent of gestures between good friends (especially women), and yet the very tilt of Ginny's head dared strangers to look closer and notice the glances that passed between them-- to notice how their fingers threaded through one another's and spoke of belonging rather than mere comfort; to see how one or the other would point to something using both their hands without a second thought. She dared them to notice that their hands didn't come away from one another's unless it was absolutely necessary, and even then the need was examined thoroughly before being judged as adequate cause.

Any stranger could see it and enough of them made it clear that they _had_ in fact done so, and though some smiled and some scowled, Ginny couldn't remember having had a better day in a very long time. She lifted Luna's hand to her mouth and murmured under her breath, "I told my Mum and Dad last night." Nothing further to add, she pressed a warm, soft kiss to Luna's knuckles and let it drop again as they crossed the narrow street and headed home.

 **II.**  
Luna didn't have to think too hard about the fact that Ginny had let her fingers close around her wrist and slither softly into her hand, but she did it anyway. In passing that is, since Ginny's hand in hers wasn't surprising in the least-- the weight and shape of it was a known and beloved quantity; the warmth of her palm pressed against Luna's while their fingers danced a maypole was a familiar, welcome pleasure. 

On second examination, however, Luna was willing to concede that it _was_ perhaps a little surprising here in the Alley in broad daylight. There had always been a worry of someone finding out that there was a good reason one was never seen without the other; always a reason to stand a bit apart, to not kiss Ginny when she said something particularly entertaining at the grocer's. Reasons kept her from sitting in the circle of her arms with their friends at the pub like every other couple that giggled and cooed and fed each other chips and fit together like spoons on a shelf. Perfectly good explanations existed for not to making said friends want to retch at the sight of their blissful ignorance of the world around a bubble of personal space multiplied by two. Old fashioned reasons, in fact, that meant reporters and embarrassing questions, and mothers weeping over the prospect of their sole girlchildren not needing or wanting white weddings and the green-eyed grandbabies they'd never see. 

Luna tightened her fingers as if Ginny might change her mind, though she was willing to let go if she had to. Instead, Ginny lifted those hands so heartily in question and yet not, and murmured just loudly enough for her to hear, "I told my Mum and Dad last night." 

Breath ghosting oved Luna's hand, Ginny's sticky glossed lips left a gooey kissprint that probably smelled like raspberries and Luna smiled widely, wondering whether she needed to say anything back.

Corners of her mouth firmly upturned as they crossed the street, Luna waved at the shopgirl sweeping the doorway of the bookshop for no other reason than to share the smile suddenly overflowing the too-narrow confines of her face. 

"Lovely afternoon, isn't it?" Luna grinned, her voice honey-soft and buzzing.

They were moving fast enough that Luna missed the girl's smile in return, which was a little sad because people still weren't smiling enough these days. Still, she had to believe it had been there, and as such, was content.

 **III.**  
Neither Luna nor Ginny knew the girl that watched them quietly from the doorway of the small bookshop, but _she_ knew _them_ , certainly. It was impossible not to - Ginny Weasley, Auror, and Luna Lovegood, journalist- both famous for their proximity to Harry Potter and their hand in stopping Voldemort, they'd had their share of publicity and rumor. Her eyes followed them as they always did, catching immediately the shift in Ginny's attitude; the way she seemed to be walking closer to Luna; how she suddenly looked as if she was no longer the awkward lone half of a whole. The shopgirl had definitely seen what was happening, and her eyes widened perceptibly as the two women crossed the street; as Ginny lifted their hands and kissed Luna's knuckles without fear.

The shopgirl could only stand and try for an abashed sort of pleasant greeting , broom in hand as they passed her doorway. Luna smiled and waved a little with her free hand, murmuring about the afternoon as they strolled past. It didn't matter that she had no idea who the shopgirl could be, it was obvious that she was suffused with joy so wildly severe, the shopgirl could feel it tightening in her own chest.

Waving back and mumbling back some sort of answer, an idea planted itself firmly, and though she shook her head to clear it, the shopgirl's idea clung to her so thoroughly and so well, she didn't know whether to cry or laugh. The voice in her head was loud, louder than it had a right to be, drowning out all other images except for the sight of their twined fingers; all other thoughts save, "If _she_ can be unafraid, so can I. If they can do this... so can we." With that, she propped her broom carefully against building near the doorframe and proclaimed herself on a break. 

There was a waitress in the cafe across the street that was busy and tired of waiting for her shift to be over; waiting for a better opportunity; waiting for a shopgirl to be tired of hiding.

It was a lovely afternoon for the waiting to end.


End file.
